


The Little Things

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren't one of those couples that fell in love at first sight.  The sole survivor of Vault 111, Regan Avalon, and Paladin Danse ended up growing on each other through little things here and there.  These are some of those little things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Why are you bothering with that junk?”  Paladin Danse sighed as he watched her pick up yet _another_ child’s toy.  He knew he should be grateful for her help … and he _was_.  She had been willing to help him out on a mission that had seen several of his brothers and sisters fall in exchange for the Brotherhood’s aid in a personal matter involving her missing child.  And she was holding her own well, _especially_ for a civilian.  It was just … he’d lost track of the number of times she’d stop and pick up worthless junk.  The fans and the tools and the canisters were bad enough.  But the toys were the worst.  She’d pick them up and just stare at them for what felt like an eternity before stuffing them in an already nearly overburdened pack.  She’d even managed to cobble together a make-shift pack for her dog just to carry _more_ junk.  “If you keep hoarding all that garbage, you’re going to slow us down.”

Regan Avalon looked at the baby rattle in her hand.  When had she picked _that_ up?  It looked just like the one her mother had given Shaun when he was born.  How often was she doing it if he’d started to notice?  But he was right … it _would_ just slow them down in the long run, and her pack was already getting heavy.  “I … sorry; I just … it reminds me of something my son used to have.”  She turned the rattle over in her hands, listening to the little beans shift inside.  “He loved the … the noises it made.”  One more look at the rattle was all she allowed herself before setting it back on the table.  She didn’t even bother wondering why it was in a place like this; nothing that came to mind would make sense.  “It … I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

Danse noticed the distinct look of sadness that crossed her face for only a second before she managed to mask it.  He’d forgotten for a moment that she’d lost her son.  No, not _lost_ , exactly; the boy had been stolen from her, though he wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.  She didn’t seem to know either.  But he should have remembered.  He knew loss of a loved one in any way was difficult, but to have one ripped away while you watched and were helpless to stop it ….  He wanted to say something comforting but he couldn’t find the words.  He settled for a simple promise.  “The Brotherhood will help you find him, once we can contact them.”

The smile that she gave him was a little forced, but still … she appreciated the offer.  He didn’t _have_ to help her.  She wouldn’t have blamed him in the slightest if he’d said his group … the Brotherhood of Steel, he’d called them, would be too busy to help.  And really … she _shouldn’t_ be picking up so many silly items that reminded her of the baby that was stolen.  She had no clue if he was still alive, let alone still an infant.  There was no way of knowing how much time had passed between when she saw that man take her Shaun and shoot Nate and when she was released from that pod.  The whole thing still made her sick.    “Thank you.”

That small voice she’d used to thank him … and apologize for picking up what he’d called junk … stuck with Danse as they made their way through ArcJet Systems.  He didn’t have children, had never been married.  He wasn’t even sure he’d ever really been close enough to someone to even contemplate the idea.  But he _did_ know what it was like to lose people he cared about.  Every one of his men that had fallen hurt like a shot in the gut.  It probably wasn’t quite the same, but it gave him a point of reference he might not have had as a civilian.  And it was that point of reference and her small, soft voice that drove him to do something he would have never imagined.

They were making their way out of the building.  Regan couldn’t believe they’d actually managed to find the piece of equipment her companion had been searching for.  She also couldn’t believe some of the … _things_ they’d had to fight.  Danse had called them synths; he was quite clear about the Brotherhood’s stance on them.  And to be honest, if all were like the things she’d just fought, she couldn’t help but agree.  They stopped to check on a wound she’d received somewhere in the middle of the building.  Danse had wrapped it well but blood had started soaking through, so she struggled to find some cloth clean enough to re-bandage it.  She’d finally gotten it mostly wrapped when a teddy bear appeared in front of her, all but disappearing in the large metal hand holding it.

Danse swallowed when he met her eyes.  He could make out flecks of green mixed into the brown surrounding her pupils.  There was only a trace of wet in the corner that gave any hint to tears that had been shed.  He wasn’t sure if it was from his earlier comment or the re-bandaging of her wound … or some mixture of the two, but it didn’t matter.  He blamed himself either way.  “I … I thought you … might want to hold onto this,” he tried, holding the bear out to her.  “In case … I mean for _when_ we find your son?”  He knew it wasn’t much … wasn’t nearly enough to convey how sorry he was for his inconsiderate remarks, but he hoped it would do for now.

Her hands shook a little, fingers brushing against the metal of his suit’s gauntlets before taking hold of the small stuffed animal.  Hadn’t he called it a waste of time?  Her cheeks grew warm and fresh tears formed.  She chewed on her bottom lip trying to find the right words … _any_ words … to thank him.  Not just for the bear, though she had to admit the image of such a large man holding a tiny teddy went a long way to make her smile.  But for everything that bear said where he … and she … couldn’t seem to find the words.  She clutched the bear to her chest, climbed onto the desk she’d been using as a chair and brushed a gentle kiss against his cheek.  It wasn’t much, but it was all she could think to do.  “Thank you, Paladin Danse.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible spoilers for Fallout 4 and the Brotherhood of Steel/Paladin Danse storyline. No major ones, yet ... but still ...

She’d already been made Knight.  Danse was quite proud of that fact.  His charge, a woman whom he’d only accidentally come across in the first place, had not only decided to join him in the Brotherhood, but had managed to impress Elder Maxson enough to be promoted to Knight almost instantly.  And she was assigned to _him_.  Why that simple fact made him happy, he wasn’t quite sure.  It had to have something to do with the fact that she was a surprisingly skilled fighter; better than some of the other paladins, even.  That was the only reason, surely; right?

They were currently taking a small break in the extra cabin they’d helped build at Oberland Station before heading back out to investigate a strange radio signal she was picking up on her Pip-boy.  And for once, he really didn’t mind the delay.  “Where did you learn to do … all that?”  He’d seen her pick locks and hack terminals faster than even Scribe Haylen in just the short time they’d worked together and had been impressed.  Sure, she’d had to get out of her power armor every time she wanted to do either and that made him a little nervous … her being without that protection.  But she had him, and she was always so quick that it didn’t really matter.  And really, she was nice to look at, out of that armor.

“I … learned how when I was a kid, I guess.”  Her hand went up to cover her face for a second, as if embarrassed, before disappearing into the still slightly unfamiliar short red locks.  She’d chopped off almost all her hair immediately after escaping the vault, wanting as much of a disguise as she could manage.  Just in case the monsters that had taken Shaun and killed Nate were looking for her.  “I guess you could say I ran with a bad crowd when I was younger.”

He wasn’t quite sure he believed that.  She just seemed so … _nice_ ; not at all the type to have grown up running around with people who knew how to break into places.  But he’d seen the evidence first hand a number of times already.  “What did you do?”  He shifted on his cot, wincing as a pain shot through his shoulder.  As comfortable as he was in his power armor, there were times it got to be … uncomfortable.

She was surprised to see him show any sign of pain, though she could totally understand.  She’d only been wearing power armor for a few short weeks now, and almost every night _something_ hurt.  Even now, it hurt to climb off her cot, but she did, and gently urged him to move so she could sit behind him, one leg tucked between them and the other sticking out in front of her.  She thought about asking him to remove the undershirt one of the residents of Oberland had lent him, but it had been challenge enough to get him out of the Brotherhood uniform; she didn’t want to push her luck.  “I guess you could say … I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.  My family didn’t have a lot of money for things that weren’t important.  They chose to spend their money on school … for me and my brother.  And to keep our house in good shape ….”

Danse had no idea what she was doing when she moved behind him until gentle hands landed on his shoulders.  He couldn’t stop the faint groan that escaped when the heel of her left hand pressed against _that_ spot … the one that had caused him to let on that he hurt.  He couldn’t find the words to express just how good that felt.  He did his best to listen as her hands continued to move, kneading sore muscles that he wasn’t even aware had been sore until they weren’t.  He heard her speak of breaking into school, hacking the principal’s computer a couple times, mostly to keep her brother out of trouble … even a little stealing here and there.  God help him, he wanted to move … lay down so she could do more.  He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t want her hands to leave his body.

“This helping at all?”  Her voice was soft, a little nervous.  That he hadn’t stopped her, or even asked what she was doing made her a little more confident, at least.  When his answering nod was accompanied by yet another groan, she had to shift a little, and asked him to lay on his stomach.  And when he did, her hands moved differently, pressing deeper into the sore muscles, ghosting over areas that weren’t nearly as sore, setting her fingers tingling despite the fact that she never touched flesh.

“Oh god, yes,” he breathed, eyes nearly fluttering shut.  Never in all his life had someone made him feel _this_ good from something so simple.  For a few minutes, he simply lay there, reveling in the feel of her hands, almost wishing she’d slip them under his shirt.  When he felt the cot shift, then her weight settle on his ass and her knees press in against his sides, that desire grew.  But he kept it to himself.  He eventually did manage to groan out a promise to return the favor should she ever need it.  A not so small part of him hoped she’d take him up on the offer … sooner rather than later.  And he finally remembered they were having a conversation … or trying to.  “What … what made you … oh, right there … oh, yes.”  He flushed before managing to actually continue.  “What made you change your ways?”

Should she be enjoying the noises he was making quite this much?  Probably not, but at least it meant she was helping, right?  Oh, what had he asked?  “I guess … it was because of Jimmy … and later, Nate.”  She barely heard his next grunted question; his face was almost buried in the cot as she worked his shoulders, only barely aware that her own hips were moving as she kneaded her way along.  “Jimmy … Jimmy was my brother; Nate was … my husband.  Jimmy started getting in trouble with the law, because he was trying to do what I did.  That got me worrying.  Then, Nate moved in down the street.  He was a year or two older and already had plans to join the military.  I was smitten … but knew someone like _that_ would never be interested in a girl like me.  So, I cleaned up my act – stopped running around with those kids, started applying myself in school … and introduced myself to Nate.”

He knew what happened to Nate; she’d asked to go back to the vault sometime soon … to give him a proper burial.  Danse had agreed, of course, and would ensure they headed that way shortly.  They’d been getting close to Sanctuary, and he’d planned on suggesting it then, but she’d gotten distracted by that strange signal.  But her brother … this was the first he was hearing about a brother.  “What happened to Jimmy?”  Oh, damn; her hands stopped.  They still rested against his back, but they’d stopped moving.  How long had he been lying here under her touch?

Her fingers started to cramp, and honestly … it was getting late.  But she couldn’t feel the tightness in his back or shoulders any longer.  “Jimmy joined the military; apparently Nate had some influence over him, too.  He died overseas … fighting in some war or skirmish or something.  I never really got a straight answer.”  She leaned down to brush a gentle kiss against his cheek.  “Good night, Paladin.  Thank you … for giving me someone to talk to tonight.”

He froze when he felt her body press against his back.  It felt … really nice.  It was certainly something he wouldn’t mind repeating … both against his back, and his chest.  And when those lips brushed against his skin again, he had to bite back a soft moan.  Did she _know_ what was running through his mind?  “Think nothing of it.  I’m happy to help.”  He shifted to his side, watching as she climbed back into her own cot, tugging up the small scrap of fabric the Oberland residents had supplied to cover with.  “And thank _you_ , Knight.  I … I do hope you will let me return the favor if you need.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible spoilers for Fallout 4 and the Brotherhood of Steel/Paladin Danse storyline. No major ones, yet ... but still ...

“Hold on soldier.  We’re almost there.”  Paladin Danse risked a glance out the open panel of the vertibird before looking back at the woman in his arms.  She looked so … small … out of her power armor.  He’d send a squad to retrieve her suit after _she_ was safe.  He felt his stomach knot as he looked over her barely breathing form, taking in her wounds yet again.  The gash in her left arm ran from shoulder to near elbow, shredding her Brotherhood uniform.  Her chest piece was near splintered, only hanging on by two straps, a gaping hole in the center.  Her right arm hung limp thanks to a dislocated shoulder.  He was stunned her lower half seemed to have sustained only minimal injuries.  But that was of small consolation for the moment.  “Stay with me, Knight … Regan.  Please.”

                                              ***

“What happened, Paladin?”  Knight-Captain Cade frowned as he looked over the barely breathing knight on his gurney.  Danse had pulled him away from dinner with barely a word, and he could see why.  The woman was in bad shape.  “How did she manage to avoid having her _head_ injured when the rest of her upper body is so abused?”

Danse wanted to pace the room, but his power armor wouldn’t allow for it.  So instead, he blocked the door, all but wringing his hands as he watched the medic look her over.  “Deathclaw,” he said simply, followed by "Helmet."  Damn it all to hell and back, why hadn’t he been more prepared?

Cade’s frown deepened.  He wouldn’t be able to get her out of that armor safely alone, and in his power armor, Danse was far too big.  “Get that suit to Ingram to repair and get back here ASAP.”  When the paladin started to argue, saying he wasn’t going to leave her side.  “I need your help, Paladin, and you _cannot_ render the aid I require if you are in your power armor.  Now, go!”

Danse had never moved so quickly.  He was sure the entire Prydwen shook as he bolted down the hall.  He didn’t care.  He was out of his armor, had it turned over to Proctor Ingram, and was back in Cade’s presence in under a minute.  “What do you need me to do, Knight-Captain?”  She looked less small now that he was out of his armor, but those injuries still screamed at him.  She just _had_ to pull through; he’d never forgive himself if she didn’t. 

“Hold her, _carefully_.”  Cade lifted her upper body slowly, allowing Danse the opportunity to slide his hands under.  “I need to get this armor off to see the extent of the damage.”  He started unbuckling and removing the chest piece slowly, careful not to do any more damage that absolutely necessary.  “And tell me _exactly_ what happened.”

Danse did his best to hold her steady.  The nervous thrum in his chest made it difficult, but answering Cade’s questions helped … a little.  “We were … assisting a settlement; they needed shelters repaired … and defenses set up.  We were both out of our power armor; the turrets she wanted installed required more finesse that we could manage otherwise.”  He fought the smile that loomed, remembering the argument they’d gotten into when he tried working on it in the power armor.  He could to a lot in that armor, but apparently not that.

“We were almost through with the last turret when a herd of brahmin came running past, followed by a deathclaw.  I’d hoped it was just going to pass the settlement by, but no such luck.”  He felt sick remembering the sound the creature made when it saw the settlement, and the panicked sounds of the settlers as they scrambled for cover.  “We were too far from our armor to both reach them in time.  Before I could stop her, she was bolting toward it, all but ordering me to get to my suit.  She … drew its attention long enough for the settlers to all get to safety ...  _and_ for me to suit up.”

“What did you use to take it down?”  Cade kept his voice low; no need to worry anyone else, yet.  He’d have a word with her, later, about ordering about a superior officer, but her bravery impressed him.  As did Danse’s willingness to speak frankly.  Too many officers would change the story to make themselves look better.  The paladin’s reply - a missile launcher … did little to make him feel better about her injuries, but at least it wasn’t the fat boy.  “Alright; turn her this way and hold her still.  I still have to get her out of this suit.”

Danse felt the back of his neck grow warm.  He hadn’t realized that the suit would have to come off too.  He should have, but his concern for her had pushed most other thoughts from his head.  Now that she was being treated, he could pay more attention, and he wasn’t entirely sure that that was a good thing right this second.  But he wasn’t going to argue.  If Cade needed her out of that armor, he’d help, and just do his best to give her as much privacy and respect that he could.  He wasn’t quite sure why her being undressed was affecting him; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been around a woman unclothed.  The showers in the Prydwen were co-ed, after all.  But something about it being  _her_ made this … different.

                                                 ***

Regan groaned as she struggled to open her eyes.  The first thing she saw was a calendar … with more than a week’s worth of marks made since the day she _thought_ it was.  She tried to move, only to find that one hand was securely restrained by something large and warm.  She looked down and fought a tiny smile.  Danse was hunched over, snoring softly.  One hand rested on the edge of the bed, the other held hers firmly … but not uncomfortably.  How long had he been there?  “Hey Paladin ….” 

“Knight; you’re ….”  Danse would have leapt up, but his legs weren’t quite awake; he’d been sitting there for some time this go ‘round.  “How long have you been …?”

“She’s been awake for about an hour now.”  Knight-Captain Cade strolled in, looking over the latest test results.  “This time, anyway.  She’s woken up here and there over the past couple days, but I think she’s up for good.”  He set the clipboard down and patted her on the shoulder.  “Paladin Danse has been here every day checking on you Knight.  And now it looks like you both will be getting out of my hair.  Tests look good.  I think you’re ready to be put back to work.  Just … do us both a favor and don’t take on another Deathclaw without your power armor … and back up.”

She looked over at Danse and stared for a few seconds before finding her words.  “You did … sir?”  Why did that make her feel … warm inside.  It was something she hadn’t felt in a long time.  Kind of like she had when she met Nate.  Why had she suddenly started thinking about _Nate_ … now?  His response was lost to the thrumming she heard in her head and chest.  She could only hope that her cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt, but the color rising to his cheeks made her feel a little better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan has returned from the Institute. What she learned there sent her spinning. What do these revelations mean for her blossoming relationship with Danse?

Danse knew something was wrong the moment she returned from the Institute.  Her answers to Elder Maxson’s and Proctor Ingram’s questions were quick and to the point.  But the warmth in her voice that he’d grown so familiar with was missing.  Plus, there was this … look in her eyes that he wasn’t sure he liked.  She looked … almost hollow … haunted.  But as dense as some of the residents of Sanctuary thought him, he knew better than to ask in front of the others.

Regan didn’t care if it was rude or insubordinate or any other military word that Nate would have thrown out back in the day.  She barely glanced at Maxson or Ingram or even Danse as she answered their questions … as vaguely as she could.  Then she just … walked.  She had to get somewhere … _anywhere_ … other than there right that second.  Wasn’t there a settlement nearby?  There was, wasn’t there?  They’d give her the space she needed, right?  She needed to clear her head.

Danse followed, privately pleased that he managed to move somewhat silently despite his power armor.  One of the many things she’d already managed to teach him.  He’d been so impressed the first time he’d noticed that she’d figured out how to move near silently in that much steel.  And she hadn’t made him feel stupid or awkward when he’d asked for her to show him.  And now, he was putting that instruction to good use.  He had an idea where she was headed … they’d fixed up a settlement there not long ago, and it was likely the closest place she’d feel … safe?  Comfortable?  Given her mood, he thought it better to tail her than try to reach Nordhagen Beach before her.  He wasn’t sure what she’d run into on the way.

                                                                                                                ***

She banged a fist against the railing of the bridge.  Why was the universe torturing her like this?  First her world is blown to hell, then her son and husband are ripped from her by some scarred mercenary, and now _this_?  At least she had the opportunity to take out that mercenary; Kellogg.  A hollow victory, now.  God, she felt absolutely _sick_.  She couldn’t tell them, could she?  Elder Maxson, Proctor Ingram, Danse … no, _Paladin_ Danse; she couldn’t think of him as just Danse, could she?  None of them would understand.  Would they try to use her … them?  Was she ok with what he was … what he’s _done_?  She buried her face in her hands.  “Damn it!” 

Danse stepped out of his power armor when he reached the settlement, asking to borrow some space to change out of his uniform as well.  It was against everything he’d been taught, going anywhere without protection.  But whatever was wrong, being that blatantly reminded that he was Brotherhood right then wasn’t going to help.  Not with the way she’d just walked past all of them back at the airport.  “Knight … Regan?”  He moved carefully; her reflexes were especially dangerous when she was upset. 

She all but drove her teeth through her bottom lip at the first hint of his voice.  How had she missed his clanking around behind her?  Had she _really_ been that out of it?  Tears teased at the corners of her eyes.  Her hands clenched back into fists.  At least it was _only_ Danse … not the others.  Short breaths came quick through her nose, trying not to outright cry in front of him.  She couldn’t bring herself to turn around.  He’d surely hate her when he found out … and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to deal with that.

Why wasn’t she saying anything?  Why wasn’t she looking at him?  What had she found down there?  He tried again.  “Regan … I … wanted to make sure you ….  That everything was ….”  He floundered.  This was all unfamiliar territory for him.  Giving orders, assessing a military or combat situation … those things he was good at.  _Personal_ things, though … not so much.  He knew she wasn’t OK.  _Something_ happened down in the Institute, or she’d found something.  He’d been furious when Ingram had told him that only one person could go through the teleporter; they’d been partners for _months_.  She needed him to watch her back, just like he needed her to watch his.  He didn’t trust any of the other knights like he did her.  “Please … say something?”

There was something in his voice that made her stomach knot in a way they hadn’t in years.  He sounded … concerned, _really_ concerned about her.  Regan turned and her greeting caught in her throat.  The sun was at his back, framing that magnificent silhouette of his with a glowing aura.  This wasn’t the first time she’d seen him in something other than official Brotherhood jumpsuits, but … this was … different, somehow.  He was carrying two glasses in one hand; they actually looked _clean_.  Something was tucked under his arm, but she couldn’t make it out … other than it being a box.  There was a bottle of … something in his other and he was just … standing there in jeans, white undershirt and a leather jacket that looked suspiciously like one the Atom Cats had given them, waiting for her to say … anything.  “Pala- … Danse?  What’re you …?”

He lifted his shoulders in an almost elegant shrug, a sheepish smile on his face.  He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this … not totally.  He just knew he hated seeing that look on her face.  He missed that smile … the one that made his insides go fluttery.  “I … was worried about you?”  Damn; why did his voice rise like that?  It wasn’t like he was unsure about his concern for her.  “You looked upset when you got back and … I thought that you … might want … need someone to talk to?  I brought snacks.”  He set the glasses down on the railing and held out a box of his favorite treat: Fancy Lad’s Snack Cakes and the bottle of wine.

There was no chance of stopping the smile … or the laugh that bubbled up when her eyes met his.  Oh, that felt good.  Why did he have to be so damned awkwardly charming?  She shifted over, patting the space next to her.  “I think snacks and a friendly ear might be just what I need.” 

                                                                                                                ***

Regan snuggled into the leather jacket as she leaned against him, half-closing her eyes.  The air was getting colder; they should be getting back to the airport, or at least inside somewhere.  But as cold as she was, she didn’t want to move.  They’d finished the entire box of snack cakes and had made it about halfway through the bottle of wine before the moon reached the highest point, and now the sky was filled with the familiar light of a bright moon and stars.  She could make out a hint of what she figured was the Commonwealth’s version of crickets.  She only hoped they weren’t close to the size of the radroaches.

Danse smiled, the arm he’d wrapped around her after giving her his jacket pulling her just a hair tighter against him.  The air was chilly now that he’d lost the jacket, his skin prickling slightly in the breeze, but he didn’t mind.  There were regulations against this sort of thing.  Well, not so much against something simple like offering comfort, but the thoughts and feelings that had been tickling at the back of his mind as of late … he knew _those_ were against the rules.  But somehow, that was mattering less and less.  He meant to just turn to look at her, but he’d misjudged quite how close she was to his height.  Instead of looking down at her, his nose ended up buried in her hair and the scent of whatever soap she’d managed to find or make last still lingered, filling his senses and sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.  “Feeling better, Regan, er … Knight Avalon?”

Was she feeling _better_?  Certainly not about what she’d discovered while in the Institute; not about Shaun or the synths or any of that.  But she _was_ feeling calmer … a little less overwhelmed with everything.  “Maybe a little,” she admitted, tracing a finger along his knee. “ Would … would you come with me when I speak with Elder Maxson?  I think … it would … I mean, I’d feel more comfortable if you were there.”  When he agreed, she broke out into a smile … that same one that always sent his heart fluttering.  She leaned up, and brushed a kiss against his cheek.  Well, she might have been aiming for his cheek, but she almost missed, catching just the corner of his lips as well.  “Thank you, Danse … Paladin ….  Um, you have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here ….” 

Danse felt his cheeks warm as soon as her breath tickled his skin.  And those soft lips … so close to his own.  He _should_ ask for one of them to be transferred; this was against regulations.   It was inappropriate.  It was … _nice_ ; God help him, it was really damned nice.  The wine … that was the cause, right?  They’d been drinking.  The alcohol ….   Would she do it again?  Did he want her to do it again?  Wait, it was late.  They needed rest; _she_ needed rest.  “It is my absolute pleasure.”  He smiled, meaning every word.  “We … should probably try to catch some shut eye before heading back to the airport to brief Elder Maxson.  And once we’ve filled him in, we can take a day or two and go back to your vault.”

Her vault?  Yes … she needed to tell Nate, for her own piece of mind, if nothing else.  And then, she could take care of him … and the others  But mostly him.  And Danse would be there, helping her through it all.  “Thank you, Danse.”  Her voice was barely above a whisper as he helped her off the bridge and walked with her toward the extra cabin.  “For everything.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've been partners for some time now, despite the number of new friends she's managed to pick up. Now, Danse has to deal with his first real bout of jealousy while Regan has to get a handle on feelings she hasn't had since before she married Nate.

Danse wasn’t sure what to make of things.  He hadn’t expected the tightness in his chest when he watched her walk out of Sanctuary with MacCready of all people.  She’d promised it would just be for a quick trip – medicine for some unnamed person who was important to the mercenary.  And somehow, he was being left behind.  They had hardly been apart since that night at Nordhagen.  Hell, they’d practically been inseparable since the night in Oberland Station.  Danse didn’t quite know why, but he knew he just … didn’t like it.  The empty feeling that stuck with him the first night without her sleeping nearby was a surprise too.  They’d always had separate beds, but were always close enough to hear the other’s soft breathing.

So, he’d gone back to the Cambridge station to see his old squad.  Since being paired with Regan … _Knight Avalon_ , he reminded himself; he really needed to remember to refer to her as any other solder, even if his thoughts were decidedly _not_ thinking of her that way … he’d only managed to make it back once or twice.  Haylen and Rhys seemed delighted to see him and almost immediately convinced him to go out on a few simple missions.  He was glad for the distraction.

                                                                                                ***

He’d been at the station for nearly a week without word from Regan and he was growing concerned.  The small group had recently returned from yet another tech-collecting run and while Rhys took care of their weapons, he and Haylen were cataloging the items they’d recovered in the main computer.  He heard the door open seconds before a familiar scent filled the room and set his heart pounding.  The owner of a second set of footsteps was only a slight mystery; there were only so many people she’d be willing to bring this close to a Brotherhood base.  His gut told him it was the mercenary.  He turned, warm smile on his face, expecting the heartfelt greeting he’d become so familiar with … so eager for.  What he got was something decidedly different.

When Sturges told her that Danse had gone back to Cambridge instead of working in Sanctuary, she was a little surprised.  It wasn’t much of an issue … just a surprise; he’d never mentioned not liking Sanctuary or missing the station.  But MacCready didn’t mind setting back out, since everyone else was either busy or not really comfortable around that many members of the Brotherhood.  She also hadn’t expected to come through the door to find Danse and Haylen sitting with their heads together … so close that the scribe was nearly in the paladin’s lap with no Rhys in sight.  And then Haylen’s light laughter at something she’d apparently missed sent her stomach dropping like a vertibird.  She couldn’t explain why … no, that wasn’t true.  She _could_ ; she just wasn’t ready to admit it, even to herself.  And when she saw the scribe’s hand land on Danse’s arm, she just ….  Oh, wait; Danse was moving now.  “Sorry to … interrupt.  I ... was told you wanted to know when I returned … Paladin.”  Her voice was shaky, hands curling into tight fists as she turned and near darted for the door, brushing past MacCready with a clenched jaw

“Reg- … Knight?”  He couldn’t even get a greeting out before she was gone again.  He’d barely had enough time to see the warm smile he so adored fall from her face.  There was a new sort of feeling in his stomach; one he was certain he did _not_ like.  It was like all those butterflies that simply being around her gave him had turned to stone and just … plummeted into his gut.  A glance at MacCready at the same time Haylen came up beside him had him more confused than ever.

“Brilliant move, tin can.”  MacCready sighed and shifted the rifle slung across his back.  Being in the station, surrounded by Brotherhood, made him a little … jumpy.  Besides, he needed to catch up with her if he was going to escort her back to Sanctuary.  Hadn’t she said something about going back to the vault with Danse?  Didn’t look that _that_ would be happening now, huh.  “She was _so_ eager to get back to see you, too.  Good job fu- … messing _that_ up.”  A quick glance at the woman who’d come up beside him turned into a scathing glare in Danse’s direction before he followed her trail out the door.

She’d wanted to see him?  Then why did she leave like that?  He had to find out.  He had to get rid of this sick feeling as well.  He scrambled into his Power Armor, grabbed his weapon, ignoring Rhys’ squawk of protest, and all but bolted out the door.  He spotted her not terribly far down the road, moving like there was no possibility of ferals or anything else attacking … or like she didn’t care if they did.  _That_ wasn’t normal for her and it concerned him, especially since she had no power armor, _again_.  As he ran for her, he struggled to come up with an answer to not only what MacCready meant, but why she’d simply walked off instead of waiting for him to close that short distance.  Admittedly, his experience seeing women as anything other than members of the Brotherhood was slim; he’d rarely had cause to think of them as anything but fellow soldiers for ages now.  But _she_ was different.  He wasn’t sure when he’d started thinking of her as something more, but he had to admit - at least to himself - that he did.  And now he’d gone and mucked something up, according to MacCready.  He _had_ to catch her.

She needed to go somewhere to think … or not think.  Greygarden was the closest settlement, but she’d stand out like a sore thumb there; no place to hide.  And there was no particularly appealing hiding place around the station either.  What she wouldn’t give for a working car … or even a motorcycle so she could just ... go.  Why was she letting this get to her?  It was just Paladin Danse and Scribe Haylen working … that’s all, right?  Right.  So, why did it feel like that time she saw that cheerleader hanging all over Nate back in high school?  At least the cheerleader had been a bitch; Nate had been on guard from the start with her.  Haylen though … Haylen was _nice_.  Nicer than she could ever hope to be.  Of _course_ Danse would be interested in her rather than … well … _her_.  Hells, Haylen had even kissed him, hadn’t she?  And it wasn’t like he’d expressed any real interest in _her_ , had he?  A little voice at the back of her head tried to remind her that it had just been a kiss on the cheek, but she didn’t listen. 

                                                                                                ****

The trip back to Sanctuary was … uncomfortable.  All three walked in relative silence, only speaking when it was time to rest.  Danse lost track of the number of glowers he’d received from MacCready, but he kept a running tally of the number of times _she_ looked back at him.  It was less than the number of fingers on one hand.  It wasn’t until they reached an abandoned cabin less than half a day’s hike from home that Danse decided to speak up.  He missed her laugh, hated not seeing her smile … _that_ smile, or any smile.  It felt strange, realizing he missed the _person_ , not the soldier.  “Reg- … _Knight_ , I’d like a word with you … privately.”

She was getting ready for bed when he asked for her.  Not that that entailed much in a cabin that had next to no defenses.  The most they’d been able to manage was a rope with noisy junk tied to it circling the cabin.  But they weren’t really planning on staying long – just a couple hours to nap while the night was darkest.  She’d stripped out of her uniform and into a pair of worn lounge pants and an equally worn undershirt.  A soft sigh escaped before she turned to face him and nod, her expression blank despite the war going on in her head.  She followed him out, not bothering to find her boots, leaving MacCready snoring on the couch.

He went just a little away from the cabin.  He wasn’t wearing his power armor – that was stored in the corner of the cabin, or even his Brotherhood uniform – he’d left that hanging to air out.  He hated to admit that he’d grown fond of the gear the Atom Cats favored, but it _was_ comfortable.  Plus, he’d noticed little glances from her in the past that seemed to indicate she approved of the look.  And, god help him, he somehow knew he needed every advantage he could get just then.  A glance over his shoulder showed she was still behind him, but only taking tiny steps in bare feet, wincing every time she stepped on a rock or twig.  It didn’t matter that she was mad at him; he didn’t want her in pain.  Mentally preparing for whatever dressing down she gave him, Danse jogged back and scooped her up.  “Where are your boots, soldier?”

A yelp was bitten back only to be replaced by a wounded “You said you needed to speak with me.”  It should make her mad that he’d picked her up without asking.  It _did_ , but her feet appreciated it far more than her mind hated it.  Foregoing boots had been a dumb idea on her part.  “You can put me down, Paladin.”  No … no, she didn’t _want_ to be put down, did she?  This was … nice. 

Dammit.  What he wouldn’t give to hear her just say his name again.  His rank … something that meant so much to him for so long … just sounded like a curse coming from her.  What in the blazes was this he was feeling?  “Knight I ….  Why did you …?”  He sat her down on the nearest boulder.  The look on her face was impossible to read in the dark.  He exhaled, her name coming out as something between a prayer and a whimper.  “Regan, why did you just … walk out of the station?  Why didn’t you even give me a moment to say … anything?”

The way he said her name sent chills down her spine.  Or maybe it was the cool breeze that decided to kick up right about then.  She couldn’t meet his gaze.  Why _had_ she reacted so poorly?  Oh, that’s right; she knew why.  She just wasn’t sure she could admit it.  But he was there, watching her … waiting.  Damn him.  “You looked ….”  She groaned, dragging a hand over her face in frustration and embarrassment.  She was a grown ass woman; she should not be having this much trouble telling someone she had feelings for them.  “It appeared I was ….”  Oh, she needed to just get on with it; no more dancing around what she thought.  “Why didn’t you just tell me you and Haylen were involved?”

“Scr- … Scribe Haylen and I … in- … involved?”  Where would she possibly get _that_ idea?  He’d hardly even _thought_ of Haylen since _she_ came into his life.  Hell, he was actually considering breaking Brotherhood regulations that he’d never even thought about before … because of _her_ , not Haylen.  “We aren’t.”  It was all starting to make sense … maybe.  But if she was upset about Haylen … did that mean she was jealous?  Why would she be jealous unless …?  Was she having the same feelings that he was?  “I’ve never been _involved_ with anyone in the Brotherhood ….” 

They … weren’t involved?  Wait, _really_?  He wasn’t ….  He wouldn’t just be saying that, would he?  No … from what she’d seen of the man, there wasn’t a deceptive bone in his body.  She couldn’t fathom him lying … about this, or anything.  Wait … what was he doing?  Her heart started racing when his lips came to rest against her cheek, just a hair away from her ear.  Warm breath tickled her skin as his voice wove its way through the fog that suddenly filled her head.

“I’ve never _wanted_ to be … _involved_ with someone ….”

A pause … barely a second long, but in her mind it stretched on for hours.  Her eyes fluttered shut as fingers gently brushed across her cheek and up into her hair.  She reached for him, only managing to lay a hand on his arm before those lips, softer than she would have ever imagined, teased against her ear again.

“… until now.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is woefully little information about Paladin Danse’s first name. He is always referred to as either Paladin or Danse or Paladin Danse. And it’s frustrating. So, I had to come up with a name myself. And somewhere in this mess of text, you’ll get to see the name I chose.

“You know, it occurred to me that I still haven’t fulfilled my promise.” 

They were clearing out yet _another_ possible settlement location Preston had found; how that man managed to locate these places but never clear them out was a mystery she still hadn’t solved.  This time, it was some island that had once belonged to … someone who thought they were important.  It would have been ideal had the entire island not been home to a breeding colony of mirelurks.  Paladin Danse was focused on the queen – a massive creature that dwarfed any deathclaw Regan had ever seen. Dogmeat was providing both backup and an accidental distraction, chasing after the little hatchlings that tried to sneak by to attack the Paladin.  Regan was perched high on the half-submerged boat, picking off mirelurks in the distance before they could get close. 

She _wanted_ to help with the queen; she even had a missile launcher loaded and ready next to her.  But every time she thought she could put her rifle down and pick up the massive thing, another damned mirelurk would pop into the scope.   Danse’s voice came across the person-to-person communicators a bit tinny, but still made her smile; he sounded like he was having _fun_.  “And what promise is that, big guy?”

Several minutes went by before he could answer; everyone was preoccupied with their respective targets.  When he _could_ respond, a triumphant whoop came first.  The mirelurk queen had finally fallen and all the smaller ones were fleeing.  “I seem to remember making a promise one night at Oberland ….”  He let his voice trail off as he and Dogmeat jogged toward the ship to meet her.  He’d insisted she stay out of reach as much as possible; she wasn’t wearing her power armor _again_ and he’d be damned if she got hurt because of it. 

“You know, I _do_ seem to recall something about that.”  She flicked off the communicator after crossing the bridge to meet them.  She dropped to her knees to skritch under Dogmeat’s chin and almost patiently waited for Danse to remove his helmet.  God, she loved seeing him without that getup on.  But he’d said he felt too exposed to travel to an unfamiliar island without it, and it wasn’t worth an argument to convince him otherwise.  “But before we can, we need to fix up somewhere to sleep.”  She looked up at the sky.  “It’ll be dark sooner than I’d like.  Or, we could call for a vertibird, and come back in the morning?”

Danse considered their options.  The logical solution was to return to the Prydwen and come back later, with more people to help build.  The island was big enough that a decent settlement could be created, with enough hands.  _That_ was the logical decision.  But if they did go to the Prydwen, Scribes, Proctors and even Elder Maxson would likely make demands for her time; she rarely ventured to the ship these days and they always seemed to mob her when she did.  There was very little chance they’d see each other outside of the mess, and he certainly would have a harder time fulfilling that promise.  And he _really_ wanted to make good on that promise. “We don’t have time to really _build_ anything ….”  He sighed, not wanting to admit defeat yet.  “But it _should_ be a clear night.  Maybe there’s a room still in-tact at the main house?”

Regan grinned as Dogmeat yipped his approval to this plan.  “Sounds good, Danse.”  Her voice was soft, almost teasing when she stood up and answered.  She pulled herself up to eye-level using the handles on his chest-piece.  On the rare occasions she could get him into civilian clothes, he was only slightly taller than her; in his power armor, the man towered above her.  A gentle kiss, short and sweet, brushed against his lips before she dropped back down to the ground.  “Let’s go.”

His heart jumped into his throat.  She couldn’t have been aiming for his cheek this time; there was no way she’d miss _that_ badly.  She had to have _meant_ to … to actually kiss him.  But she’d moved away too quick; his brain too slow to process what had happened and react accordingly.   He stared after her, watching all but dumbfounded while she and Dogmeat started to jog toward the other side of the island.  He couldn’t seem to get his feet to start moving until a teasing challenge was called out – first one back to the house got whatever bed was available … and another reward of the winner’s choosing.  Danse took off after her, trusting his power armor to add the extra oomph he needed to overtake her.  He knew _just_ what he’d ask for.

                                                                                ***        ***        ***        ***

The main house was almost totally in shambles.  Bits of wood and scrap and … well, everything lay scattered about haphazardly.  The upper floors were completely unusable, but there were a couple rooms that looked mostly safe on the first floor.  Danse carried the most comfortable-looking bed into the sturdiest, safest room and smiled; it looked like it might actually be large enough for two people.  It was probably wishful thinking on his part, but it might be worth a shot.

“Congratulations on getting the bed,” Regan laughed.  “You earned it.”  She hadn’t expected him to move _that_ fast in all that metal; she certainly couldn’t.  The tightly rolled sleeping bag was the first thing pulled from her pack while Danse stepped out of his power armor.  The suit was left standing in front of the only door to the room, blocking as much space as possible to prevent intrusion.  She spread the bag out, rooting around inside to pull out the near-flat straw pillow she kept intending to replace. 

His ears grew warm as he watched her pull her sleep-clothes from her pack.  More and more, he wanted to say … _something_ to try and tell her what he was feeling.  But every time he thought about it, his throat felt like it was swelling shut.  Instead, he just turned to face his armor, stripping out of his own uniform and into a worn pair of lounge-pants himself while giving her a bit of privacy to change as well.  He hated to admit how good it felt to be out of everything Brotherhood for the moment, but ….

“So what’s the other part of your prize gonna be?”

He hadn’t heard her move closer, hadn’t realized she was _right_ behind him until her hand landed on his spine.  “I … um, I don’t ….”  Dammit; he had known what he wanted to ask … until she’d spoken up.  His mind was suddenly blank, except for the vague thoughts revolving around the feeling of her hand on his skin. 

A small giggle threatened to escape, bitten back at the last second so he didn’t think she was laughing _at_ him.  Besides, the glide of her fingers over his back told her that his body ached, even if he wasn’t showing it.  “Well, while you decide, come lay down.  I think you’ve earned a break.”  She didn’t let him argue, gently guiding him over to the bed while Dogmeat curled up in the corner with a yawn.  When he tried to protest, she just shook her head.  “C’mon, Danse.  Lie down.  You killed a _giant_ mirelurk.  This is the least I can do.”

Wasn’t _he_ supposed to be doing this for _her_?  Why was this happening again?  Not that he minded, really.  Danse managed to lie down without any sound other than the creaking of the springs.  He actually managed to keep quiet when she straddled him and her weight settled on his rear, until her hands started gliding along his back.  The moment she started working on that first sore spot, a low groan rumbled in his chest.  Then another, and another, until he sounded like little more than a broken record.  “Yes … right … oh god, right _there_.”

It wasn’t until she slid off the bed that he pushed himself up, feeling guilty.  “That’s two I owe you.”  He _finally_ managed to convince her to lie down by promising to tell her what he’d chosen as his additional reward once he had at least _started_ to repay the favor.  He swallowed nervously as he took position with his legs on either side of her hips – he couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually _done_ this before.  Her shirt looked … _felt_ familiar when his hands started working at sore muscles beneath it and it wasn’t until he noticed the small mark along the collar that he realized it was one of _his_.  His insides twitched, a faint smile teasing at his lips at the idea she might have grabbed one of his shirts on purpose.

The first touch of his hands had her eyes fluttering shut.  The next brought forth a series of soft moans as her body all but melted beneath him.  She felt like she was turning into putty as his hands worked away pains she’d been trying to ignore for weeks.  “Oh, god, Danse … that feels so ….” 

The way she breathed his name sent chills down his spine and put a warm feeling in his gut … and lower.  He continued to work his hands along her back, fingers dipping under her shirt only briefly to satisfy his curiosity and tickle against her skin.  He tried to still his hips when he noticed them start to move against her, slightly embarrassed at how easy it was for _her_ to make his body react.  One breath, then another to calm his racing pulse.  God help him, what was she doing to him?

“Oh, _yes_ ; right th-….  _Oooohhhh_.”  She was dead.  That was all there was to it.  He had melted her into a puddle of absolute bliss with hands so magical it should be illegal.  When he finally stopped, it was all she could do to turn her head to the side to look at him out of the corner of her eye.  How was she ever going to get to the floor without just … falling out of the bed?  “Alright, big guy; what … god, you have to tell me where you learned to do that.”  The corners of her lips turned up in a smile as she caught a glimpse of pink coloring his cheeks.  “What did you decide on for your prize in addition to the bed?”

He shifted awkwardly, leaving his original position to sit on the edge of the bed.  “I … it’s sort of … a two part thing.  I’ll … leave it up to you which, if any, are appropriate.”  He saw her slowly roll to her side.  The moonlight was starting to fall through the cracks in the ceiling above them, casting just enough shadow that he couldn’t quite make out her expression, though he did see her nod.  It took a moment, and several failed attempts to get his request out.  He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so damned hard to ask.  “I … want you to … to share the bed with me.”  His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat.  “Just to sleep, I mean,” he hurried to add, in case she was offended.  God, he hoped not; he _really_ hoped his request wouldn’t offend her.

There was a sudden pounding in her ears.  It felt like her heart … her lungs … her insides entirely had just … stopped only to crash back into motion mere nanoseconds later.  “I … I think that … can be arranged.”  She prayed her words wouldn’t get stuck.  How long had she wanted the very same thing?  And how many times had she been afraid to ask?  Afraid she was reading signs wrong?  Afraid he would say no?  But if that was part one of his request, what was the rest?  She shifted so that she could lay with her back along the edge of the bed, with plenty of room in front of her.  She patted the open mattress and chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched him.  “And … and the second part?”

She didn’t say _no_!  She hadn’t yelled at him or laughed at his embarrassment!  She’d … she’d made room for him!  He tried to will himself to calm down; this was unexplored territory for him and it had his heart racing.  “I was ….  Well, Regan,” he began, propping his head up on his hand when he laid down.  “I would like … a _proper_ kiss.”  His free hand reached out, traced along her cheek to her ear and into her hair.  His eyes stayed focused on hers, waiting for an answer.

“Danse ….”

“Gabriel,” he interrupted softly, leaning toward her.  “My first name is Gabriel.”  His eyes darted down to her lips in time to see them curl into a warm smile.  He watched them part, form the shapes that made his name, her voice coming out almost breathless.

“Gabriel …” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter where there are real spoilers for the Blind Betrayal questline. 
> 
> This also is the last planned chapter. I may add another one later, but for the time being, I think I'm letting them have their fluff.

Regan slammed her fist into the closest thing she could find – a nice, tall tree.  The pain didn’t register right away.  She was too busy staring at the bunker Haylen had suggested to pay attention.  Surely Maxson wasn’t serious; it couldn’t be true, could it?  Quinlan had to have gotten it wrong.  She sat and stared, and tried to think … were there any signs that she’d missed.  Other than the fact that he never seemed to get tired while traveling … which she’d just passed off as the result of his training … she could think of nothing.  Did it matter if he was?  Did that change one iota of what she felt for him?  Dogmeat nosed at her thigh, whimpering softly.  She hadn’t wanted anyone to come with her, but the dog … the dog didn’t care, and now … she was glad for his company.  “C’mon, Dogmeat.  We … _I_ need to find Danse.”

                                                                                                ***     ***     ***     ***

“If … you have a moment, I have something … personal … I’d like to discuss.” 

When Danse came up to her after clearing out a raider infestation of yet another potential settlement Preston had located, she had just finished washing the last of the raider blood off.  “It sounds important.”  She gestured toward the top of the lighthouse.  It was a little more private than out in the middle of the potential settlement.  When they reached the top, she watched him lean against the rail.  “Are you ok, Danse?”

Danse sighed, trying not to look at the Prydwen in the distance.  He hadn’t realized just how difficult everything would become after ….  “I’m sorry.  I really thought this would be easier to talk about.”  He dragged his hand over his face.  “There’s so much I want to say, but I … I don’t know where to start.”

She smiled, resting a hand on his arm.  She had to admit she was glad he’d left the power armor at the base of the lighthouse.  It would have been too bulky and awkward for any length of time on the narrow walkway.  Plus, the simple act of a comforting touch was made much easier without it.  “Take it easy, Danse.  Whatever’s bothering you, I’ll help you work through it.”  Regan wasn’t sure, exactly, what was wrong, but she was pretty sure that it had something to do with what that data she’d brought back from the Institute had revealed.  And that thought made her sick.  If she’d just … not turned it over, or not collected it in the first place ….

Danse looked over at her … and met those eyes; she’d called them hazel when he’d asked what color they were.  Those eyes were watching him and he couldn’t help but think back just a few short days ago.  Those eyes had filled with concern for _him_ in that bunker.  The way her voice cracked when she admitted Maxson didn’t want him alive.  The way her eyes brimmed with unshed tears when he told her that he was ready for her to carry out Maxson’s orders.  And the way they shone with determination when she told him that she was _not_ going to do it.  He couldn’t even begin to explain how that had made him feel. 

_“No.  I won’t do it, Danse.”_

_He stared at her.  His ears were surely playing tricks on him.  She was refusing to execute him?  She was openly refusing to follow orders … for **him**.  “You’re … I can’t believe you’d risk your life just to keep me alive.  If Maxson learns that you disobeyed a direct order just to save my … to save the life of a **synth** , he’ll have you executed.  Why?  Why would you risk that?  I can’t let you risk ….”_

_Her lips broke into a smile … one less bright than he was used to seeing, but a smile nonetheless.  She shrugged, shoulders rising far more elegantly than they should have in the makeshift armor she wore.  “I’ve already lost my family.  I refuse to lose someone I lo- ... someone that I care a great deal for as well.”_

Her slip hadn’t registered as anything in the heat of the moment.  But now, that partially spoken word teased at his mind.  What had she been about to say?  “I don’t know if anything will help me … work through it.”  He gripped the railing as tightly as he could, watching the skin at his knuckles go white while he talked.  “For the first time since I joined the Brotherhood, I don’t have all the answers … I don’t have a _plan_.  And that scares the hell out of me.”  A part of him _liked_ getting orders, following explicit directions and knowing what to do.  He didn’t like having to make things up as he went.  It wasn’t really his strong suit.  And now … now he had no one giving him orders.  He didn’t have any idea what to do.

Regan wasn’t sure what to do as he ranted.  She knew he needed to get it out, but just … sitting there didn’t feel right.  She moved closer, running fingers along his spine.  “Plans can be overrated sometimes.”  Her voice was barely above a whisper; she wasn’t even sure he heard her.  But she wasn’t sure she’d meant him to.  She certainly hadn’t _planned_ for any of this, least of all where she was now.  “My plans certainly were.” 

He closed his eyes, let the feel of her fingertips soak through the fabric of the jumpsuit he’d found.  She’d insisted on getting rid of the Brotherhood uniform … had said it would do more harm than good keeping it.  The replacement fit well enough, but it still felt … foreign to him.  She was right, of course.  He knew she hadn’t planned on ending up here, comforting someone who’d just discovered they weren’t human.  And when she’d joined the Brotherhood, surely her plans couldn’t have included standing up to Maxson like she had.

_“I’m not carrying out that order, **Elder** , because it’s ridiculous!”  She moved to stand between Danse and Maxson, Dogmeat at her side.  She kept her pistol pointed at the man who had ordered her to kill, body ready to react if the moment called for it.  “He’s one of your best men; you’ve said it yourself, countless times.”_

_Every time Danse moved to try and get around her, she was there, blocking his path.  He didn’t quite know how she always seemed to know which way he was going, but she was doing a damn fine job keeping between the two men.  And every time she moved, Dogmeat moved with her, helping to block him in.  Her gun stayed trained on Maxson.  They tried arguing … tried pointing out that he had never once done anything but work **for** the success of the Brotherhood.  But nothing seemed to get through.  He watched her shoulders sag when Maxson declared that his orders still stood.  There was a twinge in his heart … or what he would have called his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her … to let her know that he really **was** alright with this.  He wrapped his arms around her and sighed.  “It’s all right.  You convinced me that I was wrong to be ashamed of my try identity, and I thank you for it.  Whatever happens, know that I am going to my grave with no anger … and no regrets.”_

_“Touching.”  Maxson powered up his rifle, a disgusted look on his face.  “Either you execute Danse or **I** will, Knight.”_

_She slapped him!  Danse wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her move that fast before.   Almost as soon as Maxson had stopped speaking, she was in front of him and her hand was connecting with the younger man’s cheek.  He had to fight to keep a smile from showing, though he could feel the corners of his mouth curl up despite his best efforts._

_“After all the sacrifices I’ve made … and all the battles I’ve fought for **your** Brotherhood … you **will** listen to me.  You owe me that much, **Arthur**.”  When Maxson agreed to hear her out, she’d only barely managed to keep a smug smile off her face.  “If Danse dies, then I’m gone too.  I **won’t** stay if his life means that little to you.”  She returned to her spot in front of Danse, Dogmeat sitting confidently at her side.  “It’s that simple.  Kill Danse, and you lose us both.”_

She had been ‘winging it’, as she called it, then.  And being here with him … listening to him, offering what advice she could … she was working without a plan again, wasn’t she?  Could he do any less?  “I … I suppose you’re right.  My life … my life is starting over, and I need to come to terms with what I’ve lost ….”  He shifted, finally pushing away from the railing and turning to face her.  He felt her hand drift to his hip, the other still clutching the iron bar.  “… and everything I’ve gained ….”  He swallowed quickly, unable to pull his gaze away from those eyes again.  God, the way she looked at him sometimes made his insides go all wonky.  “… which includes something important you’ve made me realize.  I don’t know if it’s friendship … or an anomaly in my programming, but … whatever it is, I … I can’t deny that I’m feeling closer to you than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

“Even Haylen?” 

He was about to stammer something in an attempt to remind her that there was nothing between Haylen and himself when he noticed the teasing glint in her eye and the smile on her face. 

She grinned, cutting him off before he could say anything.  “I feel the same way, Danse … Gabriel.”  She finally released her hold on the iron railing and raised a hand to trace along the scruff at his jawline.  “I … I’m only hoping that it … it might be more than just friendship.”  It was strange.  She hadn’t even felt this strongly for Nate, and she’d married _him_.  Hell, she hadn’t even known it was possible to feel this strongly for anyone.  But something told her that this was _right_.

Danse stared down at her, taking longer than he’d have liked to process what she’d just said.  More than … _more_ than friendship?  Did that mean …?  Those eyes certainly didn’t look teasing now.  The feel of her fingers against his skin sent shivers down his spine.  There was a lump in his throat that made it hard to speak.  He swallowed, twice, before the lump that had formed dislodged itself enough for him to speak.  “Are you … saying you’re in … in _love_ with me?”  Her answering nod was confident, but the way her teeth worried at her bottom lip made him want to melt.  “But … how …?  This doesn’t make any sense.  After everything the Brotherhood has shown you, how … how could you be in love with … well, a _machine_?”  Why did he want it to be true, though?  So much of him wanted what she was saying to be true.  Was there a chance it was?  None of this made any sense.

She didn’t say anything for a moment.  She just smiled at him.  Her hand slipped into his hair, tickling at the back of his head as she pulled him the short distance down.  She didn’t go for a real kiss … not yet; but let her lips brush along the stubble at his cheek all the way to his ear.  Warm breath accompanied a soft voice … tentative while trying not to be.  “You’re not a machine, Danse.”  Her hands moved to either side of his face, making sure he was looking at her … _really_ looking.  “You’re more human than most people could ever hope to be.”

He didn’t know what to do.  He didn’t know what to say.  So he did the first thing that came to mind.  He closed that slight gap between them, pressing his lips to hers.  He tried to pour everything that was running through his mind in that one kiss, arms wrapping around her, holding her against him.  He felt her hands slide up into his hair when she kissed him back and a soft whimper when he finally broke for air.  His heart … or what he thought of as his heart - he still didn’t quite know the proper term for it - was racing and judging by the flush coloring her cheeks, hers was too. 

“You … don’t know how much it means to hear you say that.”  He didn’t know why things were working out the way they were, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.  But he knew years of Brotherhood training was going to be hard for him to break.  Even now, he was still at war with himself.  But she ... she didn’t seem to have any doubts.  “I’m not going to lie,” he breathed, stroking fingers through her hair.  “You’re going to have to be patient with me.  Coming to terms with these … well, these _human_ feelings is going to be a _very_ difficult journey for me.  But, if we can tackle those obstacles together, I think that this … relationship … could last a very long time.”  It _was_ a relationship, wasn’t it?  It had always been one; he’d just been too … distracted to see it.

She just smiled up at him, chewing on her bottom lip again.  That kiss had been … certainly more than she’d expected.  And it was something she was most interested in doing again, often.  But she knew he had a point.  Things were going to be a challenge … especially when it came to her still being in the Brotherhood.  If he asked her to leave it, she would in a heartbeat.  But for now, it was a good way to keep him safe.  Maxson had promised that as long as Danse stayed away from anyone else in the Brotherhood, no one would come looking.  “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Danse,” she whispered before pulling him back for another kiss.  “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.  Now, I seem to remember an offer of a … massage?”

Danse grinned, letting his lips tease along her jaw until he reached her ear.  “That does sound … familiar.  Would that be something you’d like?”

“I would like nothing less, my love.”

“I love you.”  Danse marveled at the way that sounded … the way it felt to finally say.  “I never thought I would feel this way … about anyone, but I _love_ you.”

“And I love you.”


End file.
